Dead Past

space in return for relief from an overburdening tax assessment. He didn’t know that the museum director was a former human rights investigator, a crime scene specialist, and an internationally known forensic anthropologist. Judging from the reception he gave Diane at every encounter—scowls, sarcasm, or just plain ignoring her—losing the position had been a blow.
    Diane greeted her team and ignored the conversation Garnett and Marcus were having with the news media. David, Jin, and Neva stopped, set down their cases, and scanned the scene before them. They were all bundled in their dark blue winter jackets with CRIME SCENE UNIT printed in large yellow letters across the back. All but Jin wore knit caps and boots.
    Jin was bareheaded and wore sneakers. He had worked in New York City as a crime scene specialist, and during the past few weeks he had tried to explain to them many times that this wasn’t really cold weather; they didn’t know what cold weather is. He had wanted to live in a smaller city for a while and Diane felt fortunate to have him. “I hate fires,” he said. “I really hate them.” He covered his straight black hair with the plastic cap that Diane had them wear at crime scenes.
    Neva pushed a lock of brown hair under her knit cap and donned the plastic cap. “People are already calling my parents, cause they know where I work,” she said, “and they want to know who’s been killed. This is just terrible.” Neva came to the crime scene unit from the Rosewood police.
    David and Diane’s eyes met briefly. She knew what he was thinking. This is too much like the life they left. David worked with Diane at World Accord International doing human rights investigations all over the world. They had seen too many piles of burned bodies.
    “We’re going to work the area around the house first. I’ve marked a couple of things I’ve found,” Diane said, pointing to the orange flags—silent sentinels guarding the severed hand and the saw blade. “Work inward. After we clear the way to the house, we will have to build a scaffold over the floor. It’s not stable.”
    Diane glanced over at Marcus. She imagined he’d have something to say about that. He and Garnett were walking toward them, only Marcus looked like he was strutting. It was the smirk on his face that made her take a plastic shower cap from Neva’s case and hand it to him. The expression on his face changed as their eyes met.

Chapter 4

    Marcus McNair scowled at Diane as she held out the plastic hair cap to him. “You want me to shower?” he said, giving her his deep-throated gravelly laugh.
    Judging from his expression, she might as well have asked if he wanted to wrap a snake around his head. She had heard on good authority that many women found him charming. She found him annoying.
    “The hair covering is to protect the crime scene. We don’t want any more contamination than has already occurred.”
    Diane’s team grinned at McNair. He cast a quick glance at the media.
    “I don’t think I’ll be needing that,” he said.
    Diane knew that he would never accept the possibility of his picture being taken in anything that looked like a shower cap. She just wanted to see him back out of wearing it, and immediately felt guilty for baiting him.
    “What we got here?” he asked quickly.
    Garnett responded. “The crime scene unit is going to clear a way to the house. When that’s done, we need to build a low scaffold over the house site so all of you can work.” Garnett gestured as he spoke, as if building the scaffolding with the movement of his hands.
    “Well, what I think,” said McNair, “is I can have a look at the structure. We may not need to build anything. . . .”
    Garnett cut him off. “The decision is made. If you don’t want to help clear the path, then you need to stay out of the way until you have access to the scene.”
    There was something else going on, an undercurrent of hostility Diane had been unaware of until now. She had rarely seen Garnett that short with anyone. Whatever it was, she didn’t want her team in the middle of it. She unconsciously stepped back.
    “Now look here, Garnett,” said McNair. “The fire department was first on the scene and took control of the situation. I work for the fire department, not you. I’m investigating a suspicious fire here. This is my turf and I’m in charge. All you need to do is get out of my way.” McNair all but thrust out his chin, daring Garnett